After thorough planning, the group finalized the details and assigned roles for their operation.

Bai Ruoyue smiled mischievously. "My father brought back quite a collection of rare items during his days as a wandering martial artist. I know where he keeps them. I'll steal some—they'll be perfect for creating flawless disguises."

Such filial devotion, Han thought sarcastically.

With the plan set, Bai Ruoyue quickly set off to "borrow" her father's treasures.

For this mission, the entire Taibai Martial Arts School was mobilized. When dealing with wicked forces, there was no need for diplomacy—just strength and unity.

Once preparations were underway, Han reflected on an ancient saying: Martial virtue often infringes upon the law.

It was true. Those with martial prowess, whether good or evil, inevitably tread the fine line of society’s rules. Power changes people—not necessarily corrupting them but altering their mindset. Strength becomes the default and often the best solution.

Bai Ruoyue returned swiftly with her haul. Since it was her own home, the theft was both convenient and quick.

"Tonight, we’ll wait outside the Shan Shui Temple," she declared. "If anything suspicious happens, send the signal. We’ll storm in without hesitation."

If the monks were truly as corrupt as suspected, there was no need for mercy.

With tasks divided, everyone dispersed to prepare. Han spent the time pushing himself in training, practicing his secret techniques, Taibai’s core martial arts, and the Sun-Devouring Method. He trained to his limits daily, unwilling to waste even a moment. Step by step, one can traverse a thousand miles.

By dusk, Han had transformed his appearance. He walked alongside a tall "woman" with delicate features but a notably unremarkable figure.

"Fourth Brother, be careful once you’re inside," Han reminded.

"Don’t worry, Junior Brother. I’ll be fine," replied the "woman" in a calm, distinctly male voice.

Yes, the group had decided to infiltrate the temple with Han and Taibai’s Fourth Disciple, Su Chang’an. Han’s dual cultivation in both martial and spiritual arts made him the ideal candidate to detect any supernatural tricks. Su Chang’an, though stoic and reserved, was chosen for his striking looks—perfect for dressing as a woman.

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While Han’s own appearance was even more handsome, his lower cultivation level meant that a disguise might not hold up under scrutiny. Entering as himself posed fewer risks. The monks, after all, had no interest in men.

Bai Ruoyue’s "borrowed" items worked wonders. Su Chang’an truly looked like a woman—albeit one with a lack of curves. Seeing the results, Han couldn’t help but wonder how many times his master had relied on such disguises in the past.

On the way, Han deliberately avoided looking at Su Chang’an, fearing he might laugh. He’d never forget Su Chang’an’s bewildered expression when assigned the role.

Thank goodness my cultivation level is low, Han thought with relief. Otherwise, this might have been my burden.

Still, Han handed Su Chang’an a fragment of a milky white jade pendant—a spiritual artifact he had once acquired.

"This is a family heirloom," Han said earnestly. "It clears the mind and wards off illusions. Take it for extra protection during this mission."

Reluctantly, Su Chang’an accepted the fragment, promising to return it once the mission ended.

Upon entering the Shan Shui Temple, Han and Su Chang’an were greeted by a monk named Nengfa. After a brief inspection, Nengfa led them to the guest quarters. The living areas were separated by gender, with male guests on the left and females on the right.

Nengfa explained the temple’s rules: guests could move freely before a certain hour but were expected to remain in their rooms after curfew to await the gods’ blessings. With that, he left.

In his room, Su Chang’an noticed a small incense burner on the table, emitting a red smoke that filled the air with a strange fragrance. After inhaling it, he felt a faint discomfort.

The jade pendant glowed softly, dispelling the effects. There’s definitely something wrong here, Su Chang’an thought, glancing at the incense.

In Han’s room, a similar incense burned, but its scent was subtler. Initially, Han felt unaffected—until a sudden drowsiness washed over him.

"Sleepiness?"

Snapping his head up, he realized the incense had burned two-thirds of the way down. Even I, a cultivator, feel this way. Ordinary people would likely fall into a deep, unshakable sleep.

Just then, Han heard faint footsteps outside—many of them, accompanied by crude laughter.

"Heh, every night these women exhaust me. They’re going to drain this martial artist dry!"

"If you can’t handle it, give me your share."

"Get lost. Tonight, I’m taking three at once—right in front of their husbands!"

"Ha! A true flower thief. You never disappoint!"

"These foolish women, begging for children from the gods, deliver themselves to us on a silver platter. And when they do conceive, they’ll raise our offspring. What a life! Before I became a monk, I never dreamed of such fortune."

"Speaking of, there’s one tonight who’s quite the ice queen. But her figure…ugh, like a man’s. No curves at all—killed the mood for me."

"Really? A man-like figure? That’s intriguing. I’ve always wondered about trying a pretty boy…"

Their voices carried, clearly unconcerned about being overheard. It seemed they were confident the drugged guests wouldn’t wake.

As Han listened to their vile words, his anger surged. He clenched his fists tightly, resisting the urge to charge out immediately.

This world…is full of demons hiding in plain sight.